She climbed slowly towards it, keeping close to the hedge side, fragrant with wild roses, and holding her skirts high above the dew-laden grass. “Really,” she said. I suppose this is what she learns in her infernal London colleges. The little spot of rouge was vivid enough now by reason of this new pallor, which seemed to draw the colour even from her lips. They had escaped from the New Prison, it is true; but the wall of Clerkenwell Bridewell, by which that jail was formerly surrounded, and which was more than twenty feet high, and protected by formidable and bristling chevaux de frise, remained to be scaled. ‘I don’t think you need do that, Melusine—if I may call you so.
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